Sector 7 On Fire
by crush.mode
Summary: A collection of drabbles. Various pairings, various settings. Crack, fluff, smut and debauchery forthcoming. Enjoy the insanity.
1. The Price of Freedom

**Okay, before anyone throttles me for submitting the same story twice -- I decided a while ago that I was going to start my own drabble series for FFVII because I have several in the works, and I'd honestly feel like a douchebag for submitting them all one by one. It takes up too much space, blah blah blah, it's easier this way. I didn't want to leave this poor little thing out on its own, because it was my first real try at writing anything from the VII verse. Anyone that reviewed the original submission, I'm so sorry it's not there anymore. I hope no one's upset with me. **

**THAT BEING SAID, LET'S GET ON WITH THE SHOW, SHALL WE? **

**Welcome to Tsu's FFVII drabble collection. There will be crack. There will be smut. There will be fluff. There will be general debauchery. Don't say I didn't warn you. Various pairings, various settings -- I'm setting the scene for all kinds of shit to happen around here. :D Okay .. back to the original author's note.**

**~_~  
**

So, this is what you get when I am suckered into watching YouTube videos centered around Zack -- because everyone that knows me well knows I can't resist him. Not in the slightest. This is purely the product of watching a particular one, simply for incorporating the song "Everything" by Lifehouse. The song itself has always reduced me to tears, but adding the cutscenes from his death was like the last nail in my coffin. I started bawling like the sap I am and sat here for about two hours putting this together.

I digress.

This is for Carie -- **I am and I **-- because she understands. And because her Cloud and my Zack fit together like puzzle pieces when they're being emo. And because I love her, pure and simple.

Standard disclaimers. I own nothing.

-o-o-o-

The Price of Freedom

-o-o-o-

His vision was blurring – he could barely see the figures directly in front of him, the earth beneath his boots as his gaze fell. The sword was heavy in his hands as he slowly set one foot in front of the other, blue eyes bright even as he felt the fluttering of his heart begin to slow. It wouldn't be enough, _would never be enough _if he gave up now.

_I won't let them take you. _

_I swore to protect you. I can't break that promise. _

His breath coming in short gasps, the sound of footsteps over dry, cracked dirt met his ears … and it began to rain. His shoulders slumped and his grip loosened; it was the culmination of everything he feared, losing control over that which once had been so sure. He threw one last look over his shoulder, at the form braced limply against the mountainside. Was it his own fault that he felt cheated? That this life wasn't enough, and that no matter what Angeal had said about pride and honor, the only thing that really mattered to him was –

_Cloud. _

_I got you this far. You're going to have to make it the rest of the way home on your own. _

_Think you can manage without me? _

The air was still. He ground his teeth as he waited, the rain beginning to fall even harder around him – the taste of blood and sweat tainted his tongue with bitter sweetness, like so much pain and regret that he'd long since lost the ability to feel. A low, intermittent hum in the back of his mind … but that could have been the drowned-out sounds of gunfire. He couldn't be sure.

And even then, it didn't seem important.

_It was as though the world wept for him – Gaia herself, at the loss of her son. Tears lost within the Lifestream, glittering like diamonds in the sand, and she welcomed him home. _

He faltered in his descent, hearing somewhere in the back of his subconscious mind such a dejected cry of utter loss that he didn't … didn't want to let go. He _couldn't_ –

_You gave me the wings I needed to fly. Now I need you to live … _

"For the both of us."

_You were everything I needed in this life. _

_Don't miss me too much … okay? _


	2. Watch the Sky

Okay, the first _real_ submission to the series. Started this last night, it wouldn't leave me alone even when I tried to sleep -- so this is why it's 4:30 in the morning and I'm still awake. I'm rather content with the way it came out, so hopefully I'll be able to sleep now.

Affectionately titled after the song by Something Corporate even before I'd yet to hear it. I was looking for a title and it caught my eye, so there you go. Now that I read some of the lyrics, it fits more perfectly than I ever could have imagined.

~_~

Watch the Sky

~_~

He was five years old and staring at the sky, wondering why the moon was hiding. His mother watched from the kitchen as he pressed small hands against the glass, warm breath obscuring his view. "Why's he hiding, Mom?" he asked in a small voice, bright blue eyes trained upward. "Doesn't he know it's dark out?"

She crossed the floor quietly, wrapping an arm around his tiny frame and peering out the window smudged with even tinier fingerprints. The clouds were tinted an ethereal green, a product of the reactor belching plumes of smoke in the mountains. The moon wouldn't shine through that. Not tonight.

She stroked pale blond hair lovingly and rested her chin on top of his head, sighing – a sound that later would have meaning, but for the moment, meant nothing more than an unanswered question. "I don't know, Cloud," came the whispered reply, and the little boy pouted.

She kissed his forehead. "It's time for bed, anyway. Go brush your teeth."

He huffed, pouted some more, but knew better than to ask to stay up. He slipped away from the window and his mother watched him go, a small, melancholy smile curving her mouth. She wondered if he would remember asking for the moon when he'd grown and gone away.

He fell asleep, and dreamt of shooting stars.

~_~

He was thirteen, and still staring at the sky – swinging his feet from his perch beneath a veil of hazy constellations, he made plans for the future.

"I'm gonna join SOLDIER," he announced matter-of-factly. He nodded once, firm in his decision. "I'm gonna be a hero."

His childhood friend dipped her head low, the fall of her dark hair hiding her face and the well of tears that threatened to spill from the corners of her eyes. "Everyone's leaving," she murmured, and her voice trembled the smallest bit. She looked up, brown eyes wide and questioning. "If you're going to leave too, then you have to make me a promise." She paused and he waited patiently, blond brows knit together with the faintest curiosity.

"If you get all big and famous, you have to promise to come to my rescue if I ever need saving."

He went very still, shook his head slowly. "Tifa, I can't –"

"You can't just _leave_, Cloud!" Her bottom lip quivered, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "Promise you'll come back if I need you. _Promise._"

He watched her silently for a handful of heartbeats before he reached out and wrapped a thin arm around her shoulders – she buried her face in the side of his neck, and he sighed.

"I promise."

~_~

He was twenty-one, and lightning raced across a charcoal backdrop – his shadow fell briefly across the figure lying broken and bleeding on the ground, and he was crying.

"Zack …" His heart was breaking. He couldn't _do_ this. "Please …"

"You have to live for both of us, now." The voice was soft and strong, a sound that had become synonymous with unfailing support, unwavering courage. Blue eyes identical to his own stared hard and cold, though the mouth beneath them betrayed a tiny, knowing smile. "I know you can do this."

He shook his head, the raindrops falling from heaven washing the blood from his cheek in a pale crimson river, mingling with the tears he couldn't keep from burning his skin. "I _can't_." He gasped and let his head fall to a mangled chest. "I don't know where to start."

"You _can._ You can and you _will._"

Cloud didn't move until his heart stopped beating, until the very last breath had left him. Only then did he lift himself with shaking arms and look down into the face of the man that had saved him – his angel without wings.

His mouth fell open, and he screamed.

~_~

He was twenty-three, and a man by all rights – a man haunted, the memories of long years hounding every step he took.

Death had become a familiar adversary, an opponent that met him with a wicked grin each time around, taking away everything that he had come to cherish since leaving home for the first time. He was a man hardened, but not unfeeling. It would have been impossible to harbor that away.

He stood at the water's edge, the burial ground for whom he'd thought had been the planet's only saving grace; he thought of both of them, the two he'd loved most, their absence a hollow ache in his chest that had only grown since Meteor's fall. Since the fall of the great one himself into the grave he'd been digging from the very beginning. Sephiroth.

The name itself sent an involuntary shiver down his spine as flashes of memories began to play – the burning of Nibelheim, Aerith, Zack – he sank to his knees on the shore, holding his head between trembling hands, willing the images away. It was _over._ He could breathe now. Why, then, was it so hard to take that next breath?

The fact remained that nothing would bring them back. Nothing, and he _knew_ that. Even now that the threat had dissolved, after everything he'd done, it felt as though it were all in vain because they were still gone.

He reached out, trailed his fingers over the water's surface. _You're gone, and I'm still here._ His gaze lifted skyward, Mako eyes glittering in the filtered light.

_It was all for you. _


	3. In Dreams

First bit that isn't centered completely around Zack and Cloud -- quite the opposite, actually. And I honestly don't know why I keep writing these dramatic, angsty, _emo_ thingers. I honestly. Don't. Know. Go with it for now, at least? Yes? Please?

~_~

In Dreams

~_~

She was watching him again. It had become a habit, a compulsive need to check on him – she needed to make sure he was okay.

"How is he today?"

Strong arms slipped around her and she instinctively relaxed, leaning back and resting her head against a broad chest. "I'm worried about him, Zack." Her hands dropped to cover his at her waist, and she sighed. "He's … he still blames himself." _Two years, and you're still asking for forgiveness for something that wasn't your fault. _Green eyes trained on the shimmering veil, tinted a pale green as much of the world around them, she watched him stare at the stars, muttering to himself the same soft apologies he'd been offering since it all began.

Or ended, for them. It was a matter of opinion.

"Aerith, you can't worry about him so much." Zack's grip tightened, and he kissed her ear. "He's got to figure it all out for himself."

She shook her head. "But it isn't fair. It isn't _fair_ that he should think that if he'd been stronger … it would have saved us." That's what it always came back to – _"If I could have done more." "If I hadn't been so weak." _The pain in his voice brought her to tears every time she heard him say it, knowing that she couldn't make him understand that it was _all right._

_I never blamed you. _

She sank into the warmth of Zack's strength at her back, resigned herself to the fact that he _would_ have to figure it out on his own – the forgiveness he sought for the sins of another, it wasn't theirs to give.

Still she watched, and waited, too immersed in him to allow herself to do anything else. Zack held her when it seemed like too much, and waited for the time to come when they would both be able to let it go.

_I'm willing to bleed for days _

_My reds and grays_

_So you don't hurt so much_

"Cloud … hold on …"

~_~

The grass was dry and brittle beneath him, poking through the thin fabric of his sweat-stained shirt as he lay on his back on a hill well outside Midgar's city limits. The air was calm, for once, the sky clear – a canvas full of brilliant specks of light on a muted backdrop. He sighed, chest heavy and tight. Even out here, separated from everything else, he felt them. Here, he would talk to them, where only the trees would hear him, and think nothing less of him for muttering to himself in the dark.

"Tifa called again," he whispered softly, as though there really were someone sitting quietly next to him, hung on every word. He smiled a little. "Marlene's growing up a little too quick for her … I wonder what Barret would say if he knew she already had her first crush." He paused, lips parted as if to continue – he faltered and sighed again.

"I miss you."

It was hardest when he was alone, which he was most often; it was when he laid himself bare, completely open. He couldn't let anyone else see him like that.

"It's warm at night, now." He and Zack would always take their blanketrolls outside the moment it started warming up in spring, sprawling out beneath the cover of stars like those he pondered now. He would recite the dirty jokes he'd heard the other cadets tell each other, and Zack would laugh as though he'd never heard them before. Cloud knew he had, but there had always been something in the tone of his laughter that made it seem like he didn't _care _that he'd heard them before – it might have been the fact that he never failed to flush miserably every time he attempted to tell one, pause right in the very middle and get too flustered to finish. That _could_ have been it, but one could never be too sure with Zack.

"The flowers are still growing, too." It was Aerith he thought of now, the look on her face when he'd woken up in the center of her tiny little flowerbed. He would never have admitted it to her, afraid of seeming a little more than dim-witted, but he'd never quite understood how the things had flourished beneath the plate – having only artificial lighting when Aerith herself had never even seen the sky before she'd left Midgar. There had been something remarkable in the graceful touch of her hands, spent on tending the needs of others, and never her own. She'd brought light to places that had only ever known darkness, a glimmer of something beautiful among the wreckage of the slums.

"You're … you're probably worrying about me, aren't you?" His eyes slipped closed and he linked his hands beneath his head on the ground, the familiar taste of words too-often spoken on the back of his tongue. "You shouldn't. It's just … that even after so long, it doesn't seem right without you here." The breath left his lungs in a soft _whoosh_ as he exhaled, teeth pressing sharply into his bottom lip as they so often did now – the distraction helped to keep him from falling too far.

He fell silent, ears tuned to the sounds around him; the rasp of his breath through chapped, parted lips, the rustle of leaves in trees as the birds shifted in their nests. He was slowly drifting beneath the veil of consciousness, his awareness blurring around the edges – and then he was gone, reigned in by the soft tinkling of a hollow melody carried by the breeze.

A cool palm pressed to his forehead, surreal as a vivid dream and as he clawed his way back to the surface, a voice sang in his ears. Two words, soft and sure as a promise.

"_I'm here."_

When he woke, it was to the mournful sound of a howl in the distance.


	4. Blame It

Holy fuck, I finally finished it. It's only been sitting in my notebook for _two months. _At _least_. ^^;

Anyway, yeah. More Zack/Cloud stuff. But this time, there's a bit of smut. Just a little, because I don't want to spoil you just yet. -snort- Right. This was really just meant to be a bit of crack that I started one night when I was bored at work. And really, that's _all_ it is, because the bit of smut that's there really doesn't count, if you think about it. Give a bored Zack cheap beer and what does he do? Well, you'll find out, won't you?

If there are any spelling/grammar errors, I'll eventually come back and correct them. Right now, it's 4am, and I need to freaking format this bitch for LJ and dA. Also, I'm lazy. This is nothing new. And _yes_, I named it after that stupid goddamn song by Jamie Foxx. It's .. catchy. -grumbles-

Dedicated to **I am and I**. Because Zack adores the little sounds her Cloud makes, and will do anything to hear them over and over.

~_~

Blame It

~_~

Zack usually made it a point to never drink alone. For one, what fun was it to not have anyone to laugh at when they started dancing around in their underwear? And two … well, it was generally just more enjoyable when someone else was around. Only losers drank alone. Like … he was pretty sure Tseng drank alone. Tseng was … kind of creepy. Really quiet, kept mostly to himself. The kind of person you'd expect to snap and start shooting when he was _already_ having a bad day, and the vending machine decided to eat his last few gil … yeah. Creepy to say the _least._

Then again, that might just be why he was the leader of the Turks. One could never be too sure.

Zack sighed, grumbled to himself. There he was, sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of black boxers and a wifebeater, staring at the half-empty six-pack of PBR on the coffee table. The TV was on in he background but he wasn't really paying attention – something about President Shinra expanding the Weapons Development Department. Why was that even news? Shinra was _always_ expanding the Weapons Department. _Why don't you expand the budget for SOLDIER training equipment, you old bastard … we've been running the same drills and simulations for _months_ now. _

… So now he was sitting on the couch in a pair of boxers and a wifebeater, staring at the half-empty six-pack of PBR on the coffee table and _complaining._ This was exactly why he never drank alone. He was fucking _bored._

_I could … always jack off … _His mind was pleasantly fuzzy around the edges – even though he'd only had three beers – so it seemed like a perfectly good idea. Cheap alcohol always got him buzzing quicker than that high-end stuff … which made life _much_ simpler, seeing as SOLDIER 1st Classes didn't get paid as much as they wanted everyone to believe. It was kind of a bad joke, really, but what could he do?

He'd have to ask Sephiroth if Firsts ever got raises once they'd been promoted … it didn't seem like such an unlikely idea, really, but where Shinra was concerned …

He stroked himself lightly through his boxers, a soft, broken groan slipping past parted lips at the action. He was already hard … what _was_ it about the alcohol that always made him so horny? It was … just one of life's little mysteries, he supposed. It wasn't like he really cared. Gave him an excuse to get off, it did – and a damn good one, at that. He couldn't very well walk around with a hard-on every time he got plastered, could he? Of course not. He might start knocking things over and then even _more_ of his paycheck would be garnished …

_Skimming off the top, my ass. I'd be in debt until I was a hundred. _

He sank a bit lower on the couch, dipping a hand beneath the elastic waistband, completely unashamed. It was his nature, after all – modesty had never been one of his strong points. He found a steady rhythm, head tipping back as another moan broke free. His ears were ringing in the most delightful way, a clear sign that the beer was doing its job, and doing it _well_. He purred softly in the back of his throat, completely content.

_The best things in life … really _are_ free._

He was almost there, _almost_ to the breaking point when there was a knock at the door. "I-I'm busy!" His voice cracked just the smallest bit, so he tried again, forcing his breathing to slow. "Come … come back later!"

"Zack?" The muffled voice was soft and familiar. "It's Cloud …"

_Shit. Fuckshitdamn_hell.

"Uh … gimme a second …" He pushed himself off the couch and sprinted to the bedroom for a pair of pants – something, _anything_ to diminish the bulge in his boxers. The monstrous pile of laundry in the middle of the floor met him with a sadistic grin and he cursed again, reaching blindly into the abyss and extracting a dismally disgusting pair of jeans. The knock came again and he all but whimpered pathetically, yanking them up on his hips so quickly that he almost fell over. "I'm coming! H-hold on!"

The inert pile was laughing at him. He was _sure_ of it – but when he looked back, naturally, nothing had moved and there was no hint of laughter whatsoever. _I'm watching you, laundry._ He squinted one blue eye, staring at it skeptically. It remained positively lifeless. _That's what I _thought. He turned on his heel as the knock came again, more insistent than the first.

_Why the hell is it so hard to walk straight? _

… _Oh, right. _

He tripped a few more times, finally having the frame of mind to brace himself against the wall and take _smaller,_ less exaggerated steps. Pausing before the door, he took a deep, mind-clearing breath and looked down – only to groan inwardly when he noticed that the bulge in his pants was even more prominent in stiff, dingy denim. He'd just … he'd hide behind the door! That was it!

That, of course, meant that he couldn't let Cloud inside … which was far from any normal sort of behavior … but when you're _desperate _…

Zack sighed, shoulders slumping. _I just hope he doesn't ask questions. Please, Spike, don't ask questions … _

He reached for the doorknob, twisting it sharply and pulling the door open a bare few inches. He then poked his head through the gap, all flushed cheeks and bleary eyes. "_Yeees?_"

Cloud peered up at him strangely, blond brows knit together above bright eyes masked with innocent curiosity. "Um … hi." He blinked once, looked down at the floor. "Did I catch you at a bad time, or something?"

The older boy shook his head. "Mm, no, of course not." His hips pressed flush against the door, pressure building in the most delightful way and bringing an audible groan of pleasure to the surface. _Oh, this is bad … badbad … but if I move a little to the right I can hit the groove just under the handle … ohthat'sgood. _He shook his head, some slightly clearer portion of his brain telling him to _stop humping the fucking door – _he coughed, shit-eating grin stealing across his mouth. "Sup, Spike?"

The blond shrugged, raking a hand back through his hair nervously. "Nothing, I … I just wanted to stop by … we finished running some practice drills and I wasn't really ready to go back to my room yet …" He looked up again, cocking his head to the side. "Zack, are you sure you're okay?"

_Say something. Zack, _say something. The presence of the door in front of him was horribly distracting, with its smooth surface and deep indentions – _You're such a sexy door … yes you are … _He blinked, and froze almost instantly. _Did I just think that? Fucking christ, I'm never drinking again …_"Huh? No, I'm fine, really … just maybe a little … hey, why are you still in the hallway?"

_No! Nonono! _

"Um … because you haven't asked me in yet, I guess?" Cloud shrugged again, looking increasingly uncomfortable, visibly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Zack grinned and hooked a finger through one of the cadet's belt loops. "Since when did I ever have to _ask _you in?"

_Zack Fair, you're going to hell. You're going to hell for being a horrible person. _

His mind was trying to rationalize even as he tugged the blond into his living room and pushed the door shut, trying desperately to compensate for his complete lack of judgment as he pressed close against that small, slender body. He purred deep in the back of his throat as Cloud stiffened, back flush against the door, eyes wide. "Hi," he drawled softly, reaching up with slightly trembling fingers to trace the line of his jaw, the side of his throat.

The blond shivered, pale lashes fluttering against his cheeks as his eyes slipped closed for a fraction of a second before his breath hitched and he rested the palm of one small hand against the other's chest. "Zack … you're drunk, aren't you?" The older boy chuckled softly under his breath and nuzzled even closer, lips ghosting over the shell of an ear as a hand settled at his hip, blunt fingernails scratching lightly at his skin beneath the hem of his shirt.

"Mm … maybe a little …" He inhaled deeply, giving a soft moan as the hand at the other's hip shifted a little lower. "You smell good …"

Cloud went completely rigid, eyes snapping open. "_Zack Fair!_"

He straightened immediately, shoulders squared, heels together. "_Sir!_" The blond couldn't help laughing, pressing close again and kissing his chin. "At ease, soldier …" He traced the hard lines of muscle beneath the thin fabric of the tank, drifting lower until his fingertips brushed the bulge at the front of his jeans. He smirked. "Did you start without me?"

Zack frowned, brows coming together above blue eyes a bit clearer than they had been previously. "Huh?"

"You _did_ …" He stroked him softly through the denim, peering up at him from beneath a fringe of pale blond hair. He took in that dazed stare, subtly parted lips as another low moan betrayed him, and his smirk widened. "The things you do to amuse yourself when I'm not around …"

He lifted himself onto his toes and kissed him, teeth catching the corner of a full bottom lip and tugging lightly. Zack all but crumbled, the breath he'd been holding escaping in an audible _whoosh_ as his tongue darted out to taste the salt of the other's skin.

_Going to hell … going to hell … fuck, I don't even _care_ anymore. _The blond whimpered beneath him, and he shivered. _If I can just hear that again, I'll go willingly. _


	5. Trance Awake

Hurrah, it's finished! I have a horrible attention span.

Here we have something based on an RP with **I am and I** from .. when? Forever ago, probably. The RP itself is quite far from finished, because we both are horrible at finishing things. And if we did, it would probably end up being a fucking _novel._ Not kidding.

Anyway. Based on a Fight Club-esque 'verse, scrappy boys tearing each other apart for the hell of it. I love it. I want to continue it. But again, there's that whole horrid attention span thing. -sheepish grin- What can you do?

~_~

Trance Awake

~_~

The train was mostly empty this late at night. There was an old woman in a far corner mumbling to herself, a shifty-eyed punk on the opposite side of the car staring at her, the purse she clutched to her chest like a lifeline. And then there was Zack, pondering the both of them with a tiny smirk curving his mouth. This was Manhattan after dark.

His eyes were burning a little, his temples aching; the product of too much Red Bull and not enough _real_ sleep, he figured, but where he was going, that kind of pain would soon be a pleasant buzz in the back of his mind. He was itching for it – the rush, the sting, the crunch of bone beneath his fist as some guy's nose shattered like dry, brittle clay. The cut on his left cheek reminded him of the lucky hit the redhead had landed just a few nights prior, a bitter conveyance that he'd been too slow, too preoccupied with countering the coming swing to dodge and avoid the whole thing altogether. He rolled his shoulders fluidly, shifting a little on the hard plastic bench. _Not tonight. Tonight, you're mine. _

It was quiet, and rightly so; he mulled over in his mind who he thought would show up to the sound of the wheels grinding over the tracks, no more than a consistent strain of background noise. It was only then that he felt the eyes burning a hole in him, just beneath his left ear. He looked up and met a vivid blue gaze with a scowl. _Who the hell are you? _

He couldn't have been over seventeen – he was too _small_. Zack watched him warily out of the corner of an eye; he sat prone on the bench, slumped with his legs spread almost obscenely. Pale blond hair stuck out from beneath the hood of his jacket, and there was a tiny cut at the corner of his lip that looked too fresh, not yet even scabbed over. He had the same look in his eyes as everyone in that small, dimly lit room beneath the bar on 3rd – that hunger, that predatory shimmer that sharpened every sense around the edges. Zack shook his head. _I've never even seen you before … and you don't get that look after just one night. You've been doing this for a while. _

It made him wonder just how long he'd been flying under the radar.

When the train slowed to a stop inside the station he waited for the little blond to leave first, slipping silently behind him into the hazy pools of dim yellow light offered by old, battered steetlights. He didn't follow closely, but at a distance, watching the way he almost skipped over the cracks in the concrete. He was light on his feet – but would that help him at all?

The bar – Red Door – much like the train was nearly empty this time of night, but not enough to allow direct passage into the room below. He didn't mind terribly. It would give him more time to observe, and the opportunity to knock back a few shots of Grey Goose in the interim. No, he didn't mind that at _all. _

It helped that they were actually playing good music for once.

_Go ahead 'n risk it, hop about-face,_

_she'll show you the difference 'tween my gun 'n my pistol … _

He receded to a far corner, ignoring the wandering hands of some random slut with long blond hair and a short skirt as he passed by. "Keep your fucking hands to yourself," he growled, and she shied away from him like a dog that had been kicked too many times as a puppy. He didn't apologize. He wasn't _sorry. _

The old wooden chair creaked beneath his weight as he settled, blue eyes trained on the slender form of the blond as he slid easily onto a stool directly in front of the excessively hop-heavy bartender. He smirked to himself, watching as she tossed her dark hair over one shoulder and bent low over the surface of the bar, expertly flaunting the very assets that had every hot-blooded male panting the moment they laid eyes on her. He tossed back a shot and nearly _choked_ on it when the blond slipped off the stool and followed her into the back, throwing an easy sneer casually over a shoulder at the rest of the room as the door swung shut behind him. Zack coughed into a fist and shook his head.

_Little fucker's got some talent. _

When he emerged some time later, it was with a smug, satisfied curl of his lip as the girl hurried in front of him to lock the front doors – he'd left his fly only halfway zipped, and as she motioned to them that it was time to go below, he threw a tiny wink in her direction that had her blushing a deep shade of crimson that was easily distinguishable even in the poor lighting. _God_damn. _Showoff. _

He quickly descended the rickety staircase behind the old oak door, the scent of stale sweat and blood assaulting his nose as he entered the room that they had made into their own personal coliseum. The fluorescent lighting flickered overhead and he took a spot up against the wall, began shedding layers of clothing in an elaborate show of sleek, lean muscles rippling beneath tanned skin. His shoulders rolled, his neck cracked, and he stood bare from the hips up with a feral grin curving his mouth almost wickedly as he eyed the rest of the group. _Humanity ends here._ For the next few hours they were naught but teeth and claws tearing at each other's hides, and all for the sake of knowing their blood ran red when they bled.

Zack propped himself against the cool stone at his back, folded his arms loosely over his chest as the little blond all but poured himself into the center of the room, shedding sweater and belt and shoes as he went, pausing briefly to tug his zipper closed with a tiny sneer. He beckoned with eyes shining, body twisting this way and that beneath practiced, careful gazes. One of them stepped forward. It had begun.

As they circled one another Zack caught himself holding his breath, shoulders angled slightly forward with anxious apprehension. There was no way the boy could walk away from this one – his opponent was more than twice his size, all bulk beneath a smug, self-assured scowl. He'd taste concrete before the first minute was up.

It _was_ over quickly, he would later admit, but not with the outcome any of them had expected. The blond was quick and lethal as a viper, lashing out with a solid strike of his foot that broke the man's leg, and another of his fist that shattered his nose. He stalked away with bloody knuckles as the man lay howling in a pool of his own blood, disappearing into the crowd.

He was … to be quite honest, stunned. _So the kid can fight. _He'd have to, if he wanted to survive here. But it wasn't for him to worry about, was it? Not now.

It was _his_ turn, now.

He slipped forward languidly, making eye contact with the redhead to whom he owed the cut on his cheek. He'd been the one to recruit him in the beginning, hadn't he? Out of nowhere, after he'd started and subsequently _ended_ a bar fight some weeks ago – all he'd heard out of the darkness was, "_So, you like to fight?_"

He balanced on the balls of his feet, dancing back and forth before the other, light and sharp as a double-edged switchblade. They both managed to land a bare few hits before Zack decided with a smirk that it wasn't _polite_ to play games.

When it was over, he walked away with a bleeding lip – the redhead lay in a crumpled heap with a broken jaw.

The blond returned now, hands rinsed clean of rusty stains from the previous fight. The one that quickly followed poured himself over the fallen, baring teeth and glittering aquamarine eyes beneath the fall of golden hair darker than the other's. He seemed out for blood, hunching low to the ground and surging forward with the weight of vengeance behind every swing – and even as he crumbled, he didn't scream, or beg for it to stop.

Zack watched until he passed out cold.

He stayed behind when the others had gone, crouched against the wall and watching the boy's still form, shoved carelessly in a far corner after he'd blacked out. Unable to keep himself from thinking that he might be _dead_, or at least bleeding internally, he got up and shuffled over, poking a shoulder less than delicately.

"Hey, kid." His voice was low and rough, like the crunch of gravel beneath old tires. "You alive?"

The other coughed, spraying flecks of blood over his bare chest and opening swollen black eyes as best he could. He took a swing and only managed to fall forward on the cold concrete, lay still a moment before he stirred again. He gasped a breath through tightly clenched teeth, which somehow seemed to be completely intact. "Muvver fuggher brogh mah nose." He winced, touched it gingerly. "Muvver fuggher …"

Zack shook his head. "Should taken it easier …" He was crouched a bare foot away, having slipped back when the blond surged forward and landed face down on the concrete floor. He took a deep breath and cringed – another cracked rib or two. _Damn it. _

"Want me to fix it?"

The blond shook his head and dragged himself upright, skin patched and blotchy, dull with cooled sweat. He picked up his discarded tank top and blew his nose into it, cursed at the resulting filth, then beckoned the other over impatiently. "Come here. You'll probably be able to see better in the light."

He slipped forward onto his knees, still wary of getting too close. The light was scarce and dingy, but it would have to do.

He leaned in close and assessed the damage – it was broken, for sure, but only just so. He could push it back into place without much effort at all. "It's gonna hurt like a motherfucker," he said blandly, chewing a corner of his thumbnail in compulsive habit. He smirked. "But I guess you're no stranger to that kinda pain, huh?"

The other cocked his head slightly, looking tired, then touched the bottom of his jaw before bending to pick up his sweater. "Walk me home."

He nodded, rolling back onto his heels and standing – he reached out and pulled the blond to his feet, not even bothering to put his sweat-stained tank back on. It was hot and stuffy in that tiny little room, and he felt better without it, anyway.

"You live around here? Or do you need to take the train back to the other side of town?"

"The latter," he replied evenly. "I live in a fucking dump, too. So don't expect anything when we get there. I can offer you a bed, but I'm not going to let you fuck my sister or some shit like that." He sighed, wobbled a little, but managed to pull on the old, battered sweater and picked around the room for his shoes and belt before he slowly attempted to climb the stairs.

Zack watched him fumble around for a bit, shaking his head slowly and grinning to himself. "Jesus, come here. You're gonna fall over." He slung an arm around the boy's waist, tugging him gently against him and headed for the stairs. "I'll take the bed, if you're serious. They turned the lights off at my place 'cause my fucking roommate didn't pay the bill." He grumbled, shrugged half-heartedly and mumbled to himself as they ascended. "S'his fucking bill, goddamn it … it's the only one he pays …"

"Sounds like you need a new boyfriend," the other replied coolly, leaning lightly against him. "How long've you two been dating?" To say the least, the look on his face had gone from cool, pained and uncaring to a big, smugly self-assured smirk. Bright blue eyes glittered teasingly. "Or am I assuming too much?"

He deadpanned. "Boyfriend. Right." He chuckled softly and sighed. "I wouldn't date him if he were the last son of a bitch on earth … though we did try that friends with benefits thing, and the sex was good to say the least." He shrugged. "Just … not my type." He fell silent as they reached the top of the stairs, pointing them in the direction of the door and slipping out into the cool night air. It was a fair walk to the station, and with a smart-assed blond in tow, it might end up being a long one.

"So, you always an asshole, or what?"

"Only in the presence of dicks," he returned evenly, using his tongue to inspect a tooth that seemed a little wobbly to him. He then proceeded to finish up what he'd related before. "There's nothing like a dick like you to make assholes like me pucker up like we've been biting lemons. Seriously. It's just a fact of life."

"... Right. Well, then." He snorted. "I can tell this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Can't you just _feel the fucking love?_" He was getting a little bit delirious. _Too much adrenaline. That has to be it.  
_  
He bit the inside of his cheek and kept quiet.

"Name's Cloud, by the way … Never got to tell you …"

He cocked his head to the side. "Cloud, huh? I'm Zack." _And I had to watch you beaten to a bloody pulp before I knew your name. _

They continued toward the station in mutual silence, each bracing against the other as though he were the only thing keeping him upright.


	6. Ties

Heh. How long has it been since I did anything with this? And holy shit, I _told_ you there would be more than just Zack/Cloud. It just took me this long to make it true.

So totally for my boything. Because he's making me realize that my Cid is around more than I thought he ever would be. I am pleased.

Ties

Sometimes, Cid wondered exactly what the fuck the word 'family' was supposed to mean. It was just a word … a word to define something he had never put much stock in in the first place. Bunch of people that really only got together for the holidays, exchanging pleasantries just for the sake of it, smiling and nodding while listening to stories no one gave two shits about. It was tedious. It was time-consuming. It was downright _ridiculous_.

He'd never thought he'd have any part in it. At all. He wasn't a family man, never planned to be. Give him a ship, a fresh pack of cigarettes and time to himself, and he was _happy_.

Then again, things had a tendency to change, didn't they? Life … was just like that.

The first morning he woke up to the scent of her shampoo still on her pillow, he thought it would take some getting used to. She always had been the type to be up with the dawn, no matter whether or not they had something important to do. There had _always_ been something to do, hadn't there? She was always double-checking things … going over calculations just to make sure they were the right ones, correcting any little mistakes she found along the way. She worried too much, about anything and everything there could have been _to_ worry about.

Except now, it was more about things like keeping the house tidy. And making sure Vincent ate.

More often than not, early morning found him sitting at the little table in the middle of their kitchen, half-dead or just half-awake, with Shera _fussing_. "You don't sleep enough," she would say, a small frown turning her mouth down just enough to count. Vincent would pretend not to hear, and Cid never bothered mentioning that it was a lost cause. He figured it wasn't hurting anything.

Then there were the mornings he would come downstairs before the sun even rose, only to find a vaguely human-shaped form sprawled across the length of a sofa that had seen better days, passed out so hard he almost wondered if someone had had the balls to hit him with a Sleep spell. After the fourth time in a row, he stopped wondering why he never seemed to sleep at his own place. He didn't mind.

After a while, it became routine.

After a while, Cid stopped wondering just what the fuck the word 'family' was supposed to mean. The shape of the word had changed, shifted, with impossible angles and ragged edges, but that had never been the point. They weren't refined, weren't polished. They just _were_.

And if that was what 'family' meant … Cid figured it couldn't be all that bad.


	7. Love the Way

It would seem I keep surprising myself with prompts. Of all things, Eminem is to blame for this. Or the idea behind it, anyway. That damned song, "Love the Way You Lie," has been stuck in my head and on my playlist on infinite repeat for at _least_ three consecutive days. And while I was making a list of prompts at work today, that one stuck. Like freaking crazy glue.

.. And now it's thundering, so my dogs are going crazy trying to crawl underneath me on the sofa. -rubs temples- Good grief. Anyway, enjoy? Maybe?

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

**Love the Way ..**

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn?_

Neither of them was a stranger to dishonesty. Doing what they did – it _was_ what they did. Even when no one else was around, when it was just the two of them in his apartment, skin slick with sweat and stale cigarette smoke hanging in the air. Blue eyes followed the string of wispy smoke rings coiling toward the ceiling, and the blond shifted, made a sound in the back of his throat that was, thus far, the only indication of his annoyance.

"I thought I told you not to smoke in here."

"Sorry, boss." Slender fingers flexed, and a bit of ash fell into an empty glass on the nightstand. "Forgot."

As simple as that, no change at all in his tone – but it was as a broken record, that same old "sorry, boss" falling from thin lips the easiest thing that seemed to come out of his mouth. That was only where it began, stemming from something so basic and branching out into a little web that cradled them both in the very middle, safe and snug, _comfortable_.

And even still, that comfort was nothing more than another little white lie lounging on the backs of sharp tongues, hissing through fanged teeth to lose itself on the surface of the pillow they so often shared.

They both knew it. They just knew better than to say anything. It wouldn't have made a difference, so what did it matter?

Apologies, broken words that were just as empty as the voices that spoke them, every _bit_ as empty as the threats that followed. The whole thing was a farce, and _they knew it_. But maybe it was the sense of continuity – stability was one thing neither of them was familiar with, an idea that held little merit, and sometimes, it was probably the only thing that held them together.

Comfort. Trust. Companionship. Foreign concepts based on false promises that held the world.

That was fine with them.

Reno made another elaborate show of smoke rings, and the blond coughed. A bit more of that irritation bled through. (It might have been the only thing that was real.) He laughed, crushed it out.

"Sorry, boss."

"I will shove you out into the hall with nothing but that rat-tail of yours if you light up another one."

"... No, you won't."

The silence that followed was almost amiable. Then Rufus snorted. "I wish I knew why I put up with you."

"Hey, if you knew, I'd have to come up with a new tactic. And you know I'm not good with ideas." He paused. Smirked. "I go with what works."

"I would say, then, that you should probably consider rethinking that theory."

The redhead laughed again, a light, soft sound. "Such a damned sweet talker."

Without even missing a beat: "Only for you, Reno. Only ever for you."

It irked him, on some level, that he still couldn't tell if that was just another empty bit of nothing.

_That's all right … I love the way you lie._


	8. Blue Like Nevermind

Funny how this was the first bit to break in my new notebook when I bought it a couple of weeks ago, and it's so far the last thing finished. I write in spurts, what can I say. I do want to write more with Aerith, though. I love her to _death_. She's just so quiet that most of the time, I don't know what to do with her.

I also adore Kimya Dawson. That is all.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

**Blue Like Nevermind**

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It takes a special kind of touch to make anything grow – much less beneath the plate. She'd always had a knack for it, even when she was a child. Her mother never questioned; she knew she was special, but _saying_ that she was was like commenting on the weather. _"The sun's out today."_

It was too redundant. But she didn't mind.

Shew grew up with a quiet sense of grace, seeing the beauty in everything, _understanding_ that which was supposed to have been beyond her years. Those green eyes had seen just about everything – except the one thing that everyone else seemed to take for granted.

"_I've never seen the sky."_

The idea of it, the prospect frightened her. So much open space, an endless expanse of … nothing. She'd never considered herself any form of phobic, but …

Then he'd come, promised to show her. Promised she wouldn't be scared of it anymore. _He had the nicest smile. And the prettiest eyes._

Everything about him had exuded kindness. Caring. And she couldn't help wondering if the sky would be the same color of those eyes that seemed to smile, even if his mouth didn't.

When he didn't come back, well … she never quite stopped wondering.

Her garden in the church flourished, even beneath artificial lighting, yellow and white making the dim space that little bit brighter, and she was _happy_. Even when _he_ fell through and landed right in the middle – (just like someone else, though … he was smaller. No less confused. And _strangely_ familiar) she just smiled down at him, helped him to his feet.

When they came for her, he fought. Said he had to keep her safe.

_Just like … _

And then he had to leave, too. But she wasn't staying behind. Wasn't going to be afraid anymore.

When she stepped out into the sub, that broken chain-link fence at her back, she looked up.

_Blue like nevermind … _


End file.
